


Star’s Token

by Darkrealmist



Series: The House of the Dead Poetry [8]
Category: The House of the Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Battle, Canon - Video Game, Character Study, Free Verse, Gen, Genetics, Gothic, Guns, Horror, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love, Mutants, Poetry, Prose Poem, Reunions, Scars, Science Fiction, Spies & Secret Agents, Stars, Survival Horror, Tarot, Wordcount: 100-1.000, Wordcount: 100-500, Wordcount: Under 10.000, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-13 03:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20575718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkrealmist/pseuds/Darkrealmist
Summary: A poem based on the challenge of the Star, set during The House of the Dead 4.





	Star’s Token

Star’s Token

Author’s Note: Enjoy the poem and R&R.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the House of the Dead series.

Summary:

A poem based on the challenge of the Star, set during _The House of the Dead 4_.

* * *

Déjà vu, this sick invitation back to where it started. Front flip of crimson, foyer’s roguish commandant.  
Rampant with greed, humans leer and lunge at his purple light. Ground-level heretics. Unreadable mask.  
Trench-coated glow, upon whom Goldman entrusted a parting wish. Tests their strength, desire to live.  
Else impassive swordplay romance a cut so dear.  
Targets blades toward glory, the disfigured cleaver-bard. Basked in self-adoring scarlet, shoulders hard.  
No other crime left unilluminated by avarice’s exposure.  
Come, AMS, and watch this tragedy the actors have staged. The Fall of Man, first sin of the human race.

Airless mistrals macheted the master’s long-estranged friends.  
Plasmoids blink, orchid astro-children whooshing the public façade. Four-pointed rents in troupes of six.  
They take off and dance. Plotting round-trip patterns until into sharpened metal they skid.  
Intensifying the knives within which the effusions cluster.

Cyclonic tourdion barely connects. An indoor sandstorm baldly repelled.  
Kate mocks him. Says it is he who failed Goldman’s last dying test.  
Unexplained poison prejudices his inner reactor.  
Getting out of their way.  
Lingers a temporary, smoggy shard. A scar unto James not far removed from that on the fallen.  
Tis but a flesh wound. And yet…James struggles to surmount its stab and reassert his top agent aim.  
Nuclear reunion. Devil may care.

He was one, second to the right and straight on ’til doomsday.

I cannot love, for I am mover of the sun and the stars. What is it to be the mover, but to love absolutely?

So in need of rest, their unfinished business.


End file.
